


What Trevor Belmont Hates and Loves

by Kitsu



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, At Prospective Future, Blow Jobs, During season 2, Feels, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Scars, Season/Series 02, Sex, but still smutty, filthy feels, inn, introspective, is that even a thing, shared room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Nursing a goblet of hot mulled wine gripped between his fingers, Adrian studied his travel companions over the rim of his cup. He shouldn’t like Trevor Belmont, for so many different reasons. Yet he did.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Trevor Belmont/Trevor Belmont | Alucard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	What Trevor Belmont Hates and Loves

Nursing a goblet of hot mulled wine gripped between his fingers, Adrian studied his travel companions over the rim of the cup as they chatted companionably over a shared meal. Not really thirsty, he still appreciated the heat the vessel was giving off, warming winter-chilled fingers, fingers even colder than usual. In addition it gave him something to focus on, to hide behind, as he let his thoughts wander. For some reason, they seemed to want to focus on the hunter eating and drinking animatedly in front of him, half-flirting with the pretty Speaker magician. Adrian shouldn’t like him, for _so_ many different reasons. Trevor Belmont presented himself as a dirty, unwashed drunkard, crude and uncouth, hot-tempered and ill-mannered.

Yet Adrian appreciated the man’s blunt manners, his honesty. If Trevor Belmont disliked something, he told you so. If he liked something, he was equally exuberantly honest. Often having to share a room to save on expenses, while still affording Sypha the privacy of a room to herself, he’d learned a few interesting things about Trevor Belmont over the last few weeks of travel. 

Trevor Belmont hated Adrian’s icy personality with a passion (or so he claimed), yet he seemed to have taken a liking to his voice. In public he would throw insults just to hear the answer, he’d tease and goad and provoke, until Adrian caved and swore back at him. In private, he’d do almost anything to make Adrian _moan._ He’d touch and kiss and lick with masterful intent, until Adrian was a writhing, incoherent mess, only capable of producing _sinful_ , primal noises. 

Lately, Adrian had taken to cornering Trevor whenever he could, be it in a dark back alley or against a tree trunk, still bloodied from battle, to whisper all the things he wanted Trevor to do to him in his ear. The barely suppressed desire it would elicit, visible as an uncontrollable tremor along with white-knuckled fists held alongside Trevor’s sides, was as strong an aphrodisiac as any to Adrian. Yet the desire was always kept under tight control until they were on their own, Trevor’s upbringing not letting him relax and _fuck_ until he was fairly safe behind closed doors - ostensibly hiding either from monsters or the damnation of the Church, though Adrian knew not which. Sometimes the urgency of it all became so demanding that when they finally found a room to rent, they left Sypha behind in the inn’s common room, claiming complete exhaustion; to prioritize sleep over food, though sleep was the last thing on their minds.

Trevor Belmont hated the fact that Adrian was taller than him, so he’d have him on his knees as often as possible, just to be able to look down on him (and most likely for a few other good reasons as well). He’d have his cock in Adrian’s mouth almost before they closed the door to their shared accommodations behind them, his hands in Adrian’s hair, encouraging and petting, or twisting and pulling, dependent on his mood.

Adrian, on his knees with a cock in his mouth like some cheap harlot, would look up at Trevor staring down at him from under dark lashes, blue eyes blown dark with lust - and still feel superior. Having the hunter’s fate in his hands, _i_ _ _n_ his mouth_, making Trevor call his name was quickly becoming a favourite pastime. 

Trevor Belmont hated Adrian’s coat, calling it flashy and gaudy, and he seemed to take great pleasure in robbing Adrian of it, pushing it off his shoulders and tossing it across the room. The same seemed to apply to the rest of Adrian’s clothes, but sometimes he would ask Adrian to keep his gloves on, relishing in the difference in texture and touch. 

At those times Adrian obliged, though missing the feeling of skin against skin. He usually got his revenge over the next few days, ‘forgetting’ to put on the gloves at all, touching Trevor any way and any time he managed. He particularly liked walking up behind him to run his nails through the hair at the nape of Trevor’s neck, watching as they stood up on end. He triggered Trevor’s ‘predator in the vicinity’ reflexes, and he knew it. It amused Adrian to no end - as did the thought of the predator being laid down by the prey on a fairly regular basis. 

Trevor Belmont loved to put his warm, strong hands, his mouth and tongue, on Adrian’s skin, loved making him beg for more, making him shudder and moan, twist and turn in his grip. He loved Adrian’s hands on his own skin, loved the welts sharp nails would leave, marks of a heated passion hidden by the icy demeanour. He loved the threat of fangs against his skin, biting, bruising, but keeping just shy of piercing. Sometimes he even liked being _bit_ , a few quickly fading pin-point scars telling that story. 

Trevor Belmont liked the scar running across Adrian’s torso, liked how the imperfection of it betrayed Adrian’s vulnerability, his human half. Liked how it showed his ability to survive, to oppose his vampire half. He particularly liked running his tongue along the length of it, loved the fits of shudders it would send Adrian into. 

Adrian echoed the sentiment, often letting his fingers run down the length of the scar on Trevor’s face, or finding others on tan skin to skim across. Scars told of a life lived, and a life survived so far. They told of healing and strength, of seeing another sunrise. So when Trevor had let him add a few more to his skin, the possessiveness in Adrian’s heart overflowed, and he marked what was _his_ with a passion. He could have seen to it that the marks of his fangs on Trevor’s skin disappeared completely before the sun rose, but he _needed_ them there, to remind Trevor of... _something._

Trevor Belmont loved sliding into Adrian, the tightness and friction, and actual heat of it. The first time he’d realized only Adrian's personality and skin were cold, he’d come almost instantly, too shocked to keep going. 

And Adrian loved it, loved how his body had made the hunter come undone in just a broken moment.

Trevor Belmont loved Adrian’s hair, loved touching it, loved running his fingers through it, pulling it, loved dirtying it. Yet he only touched it while alone, finding it too much of a distraction at any other times. He’d likened it to spun gold, strands of moonlight while whispering sweet nothings to Adrian in the night, cock still in his ass, spent. 

Trevor Belmont hated the innate coolness of Adrian’s skin, betraying his not-all human nature. Which meant he’d do almost anything to heat it up, including sharing his own heat as they slept under shared blankets. 

Trevor Belmont loved Adrian’s eyes, enough to drown himself in them, enough to forget he was supposed to watch anything else. He’d confessed to loving the colour when the heat of a fire reflected in them, or when he could see his own reflection in them as he fucked Adrian. He loved to watch eyelashes flutter against his high cheekbones when Adrian lost his composure, for _any_ reason, be it because of one of Belmont’s insults, while fighting the night horde, or because of Trevor’s cock inside him, rubbing him just right. 

So Adrian made sure to watch the hunter, like he was doing right now, eyes locked on his target - and when Trevor caught him, the hunter would blink, once, twice, before images of what they did in the shadows would flash behind his eyes. Adrian could always see the moment it happened, as Trevor bit his lower lip and swallowed. His little tell, his little promise of more to come, before he collected himself, returning to drunkenly chatting up the Speaker girl, making her laugh.

All these things Adrian had been told, and all these things he knew, yet he also knew that they didn’t _love_ each other, hell, sometimes they hardly even stood being in the same room. But they _fit,_ suited each other, similar, yet opposed, rubbing each other both the wrong and the right way.

And without a shred of jealousy in his heart, Adrian still knew he’d _hate_ the day he wouldn’t be able to spend time with the hunter any longer, the day when his two travel companions would leave to live out human lives while he’d be left to his own devices. It was fate, destiny, call it what you wish, but it was inevitable… He’d be left alone in the end, with only memories to comfort him - so he would see to it that he had a multitude of them to choose from, long after the other two had stepped beyond the veil.

Standing, stretching, hands above his head, he yawned. Catching his companions’ attention, he turned to walk away. “I’m calling it a night. We need to set of early tomorrow.” Walking away, he heard the hunter make his excuses to Sypha, the girl yet again having her own room.

He’d feel the heat of the hunter this night as well - another memory to be added to his collection.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm running out of ideas, anyone have a prompt for me?


End file.
